The Ghost and Her Shadow

To ghost someone means you want to be dead and allow their tears grow flowers without placing it on your grave because they can’t seem to find it. -Marvellous Onah

There was a young widow who lived two houses away from mine. She lived alone and rarely accepted visitors. She would go out everyday in a black dress with a shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders. She would always come back in the evening with new flowers in her hands. I wondered who these flowers were for and why she always came back with new flowers. When I pressed for answers from the neighbors, I was told that she had been married to a young soldier who had died by hanging and his body had not been brought back for a befitting funeral. Someone even said that she went out in search of his grave which I found odd. I mean if someone was dead and his body was not brought back to his wife, why would she buy fresh flowers everyday and dedicate her time to searching for a grave that didn’t exist?

I knew she had people who cared about her, because everyday someone would always come knocking, pleading with her to open the door. Sometimes, they’d drop letters, gift parcels. I once went close after a close friend of hers had gone to see that they had written a letter in an unsealed envelope and it had said:

Lori, you’re enough. You need to let this man go. Your worth isn’t tied to him. He has left, allow him to be please. I’m worried about you. Your sisters are too. Don’t shut us out. It’s not the end. Please call us or allow us to come visiting.

That was the first time I knew the widow’s name, Lori. Such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman I presume; for with the shawl, it’s hard to make sense of what she looked like.

One fateful night, I woke up to the sound of someone wailing and I jumped out of bed, took my lantern and went out to the verandah. The sounds were coming from Lori’s house. I walked closer and I could hear her screaming and shouting, “Joseph why did you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this? What did I do to be treated in such a manner? Am I not beautiful enough? Couldn’t you have written to me at least or told me how you felt?”. I felt like an intruder and so I quietly walked back to my house. I wondered what Joseph, the young soldier had done. There and then, I decided to follow the young widow out everyday to see what she was up to.

The next morning, I woke up early and a bit groggy. Well, I was going to have to forfeit my sleep if I wanted to keep up with Lori as she always left early in the morning. Her first stop was at a farm where she plucked some fresh flowers. Her home must be a garden at this point because she brought flowers back home everyday. I was shocked because I didn’t expect her to have grown them. I thought she always bought them. Weeping, wiping her face and digging with bare hands, she planted more seeds and plucked new ones. After she had made a bouquet, she left the farm and trekked around a narrow and lonely road. She was headed to the cemetery. I followed far behind so as not to rouse her suspicions. I got to the cemetery after her and searched for her. She was searching tombstones, reading eulogies out loud and crying for her husband.

“Joseph, you promised you’d always be there for me. We would have kids. We already had their names penned down. Nobody understands why you did this? Why didn’t you come back to me? I’ve searched everywhere for you. I’d like to think you’re alive. I’ve distanced myself from Ashley and the girls because they don’t believe me when I say you’re out there somewhere and I’m sure we would meet again. Please come back to me!!!!”, she screamed and had to be escorted out of the cemetery.

On our way back, we branched the church and there was a service going on. She slipped in and I did and sat two pews away from her. Service went by and as soon as it was over, few people came over to hug her and shake hands with her. Whispers of “I’m sorry”, “you don’t deserve this”, “you’ll get over it with time”, “we’re here if you need to talk to someone” could be heard as she shook her head with tears streaming down her cheeks.

We left the church and I debated whether to follow her as I was hungry, tired and I had some things to work on. But I decided to see it through; at least for today. We walked and walked until we came to a restaurant where she sat down, and ordered a drink. I sat a few tables away and ordered one for myself too. Since it looked like we were going to be here for a while. Some men came in and they ordered a drink and began to watch a football match on the television. Just then, a man who I believed to be in his thirties walked in with a girl on his arms and they all cheered him. “Joseph, come quickly, our team is winning. We need to whoop their asses”, one of the other guys said as he gestured for him to come over. I was intrigued by how Lori, stared intently at this man and the girl by his side. That Joseph and the lady seems oblivious to her stares well she was well hidden in the corner facing their table and her shawl wrapped around her face as usual.

I was more concerned when she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, gulped down the contents of her glass, dropped the bill and stood up. She carried her flowers with her and hurriedly left the restaurant. Could that be her Joseph? But he was dead right? Or did the neighbours perceive wrong?

Lori had gotten home by the time I had, because I could see the light switched on in her house. I had so many unanswered questions with no one to the answers except Lori.

The next day, she went out in her black regalia but without her shawl. I was home and looked out of my window, immediately I heard her door open. She was young and beautiful, albeit sad and frail. She could be in her late twenties, too young to be a widow. I was shocked she was going out without her shawl but didn’t have the time and energy to follow her. She came back in the evening with flowers.

The day after that, we all woke up to flowers on our doorsteps with a note of apology for her incessant screaming and for being ‘a not so good neighbor’. She didn’t come out throughout that day.

Three days after, someone knocked on her door and for the first time, she was home at midday and for the first time, she opened the door. There were sobs, and then, there was loud laughter.

A week later, Lori came out to greet me with a smile and some cookies. She said she heard I was the new neighbor and wanted to welcome me to the community. I thanked her profusely and she went back in.

Three weeks later, she came out dressed in a bright and beautiful yellow dress that stopped at her calves. She had bags under her eyes but still, she wore a smile.

A month later, her friends came to pick her up in a car; she wore a red dress and had red lipstick on, eyes bright and bags free and it was safe to say, this young widow was out of mourning.

No more dark dresses, shawls or tears, no more flowers. Joseph could be dead or alive, no one knew, but she was no longer looking for a body or a grave. Life went on, albeit with ghosts and memories, but she was no longer living as a shadow of herself.

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you’re Lori, you’ve been ghosted and you think you’re not worth it. Don’t go seeking for validation elsewhere. Please don’t abandon your friends and people who’d like to be there for you at that time and don’t wallow in self-pity. No more hiding in dark clothes or in shawls. Remember, life goes on even with ghosts and memories, but don’t be a shadow of yourself.

Lastly, please don’t be a Joseph (guys and girls alike) communicate how you feel and don’t just ghost.

Lastly lastly, don’t forget to clap as many times as possible!!! Comment your thoughts, share and help me to grow so I can be your next Chimamarve😎.

All my love,

Till next time

Your best Author ♥️